


So Screwed

by ElizaStyx



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Episode Related, Episode s04e03 97 Seconds, Fluff and Angst, House is an idiot, Hurt/Comfort, I don't even know anymore okay, Love Confessions, M/M, Nerdiness, Pre-Slash, Star Wars References, Wilson loves him too much, Wilson's POV, and they are dorks, internalized feelings, sort of, they just love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaStyx/pseuds/ElizaStyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just loves this horrible man so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Screwed

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm sorry, I am trash.  
> (Also if you subscribed to me because of spn ships, don't worry, I also got a lil' something in brewing just for you)

"I love you." says House and this is exactly why, Wilson realises, he is so deeply screwed.

It's quite obvious House means it in his typical drug-addict-finally-getting-his-dose way and Wilson can only hang his head low, fighting not to show just how much this whole thing pisses him off. Not only because House is a fucking idiot, even more so this time what with the whole sticking knife into a socket business, but also because he feels so helpless, stuck there by said idiot's side as the human being supposedly closest to him yet still unable to shake any sense into his stubborn form. Unable to change anything since forever, trapped in this vicious cycle of saving House's ass by making little or bigger sacrifices and always being the one to pick up the crumbles after every major meltdown, silently letting House take out all of his hurt on him.

Obviously, Wilson isn't that focused on his own misery not to understand that in his own, wicked way House actually does love him. He knows House all too well not to know that. Of course it's not the same love House had and possibly still has for Stacy but he doesn't dare to actually define what they have in any comparison to that specific relationship. He just generally knows that House cares, no matter how hard it is for him to show it. House cares because in the end he always chooses to save what they have. Only sometimes Wilson wants to laugh bitterly at the clearly titanic effort House has to actually put into it, even though it's so easy because Wilson always waits there, ready to accept any sign of affection House would willingly show him. He is sometimes so disappointed with himself for not making it any harder for him.

He just loves this horrible man so much.

Wilson sighs and focuses harder on House's chart because it's safer than looking at the face he wants to punch and kiss at the same time. He tries not to think about how significantly smaller the choice of safer reactions is getting lately; how cornered he feels at times, forced to face his own emotions and not blow up right there, when those piercing blue eyes are looking right through all of his facades.

He hears House exhale deeply with exhaustion and risks a glance at the slumped form resting on the hospital bed. He decides there's nothing he hates more than House being on the different side of patient-doctor relationship than usual. It is truly painful to look at him. And madenning to think that he did it to himself, this time willingly and with full understanding of all the consequences. He thinks about all of these times he should have shoved the truth about his stupidity right into House's face and freezes there, glaring at the man until he finally reopens his eyes.

Wilson is so angry at him and so angry at himself for still being there that he doesn't flinch as House returns his glare. His expression doesn't change even as House's, oddly enough, turns into one of slight curiosity and then softens slowly, almost melting into a smile that is right on the edge of goofy, which is so weird that Wilson should probably call a code based on the sight alone.

"Jimmy..." says House silently, so softly Wilson takes it for a hallucination at first, however, the hand that reaches for his is definitely real. And burned, as a matter of fact.  
Wilson rolls his eyes but obediently sits on the edge of the mattress since nurses never provided any chairs, doubting House would get any visitors ready to stick around for long enough to need a place to rest. He tries to ignore the soft touch of fingers closing carefully around his wrist.

"What now?" he asks more impatiently than he wishes to. "You want to tell me what you saw on the other side? Announce your great conversion?" he furrows his brows as House's smirk grows into a grin, his eyes sparkling impishly like every time he's about to lay some genius comeback as he squeezes Wilson's wrist harder.  
"Noooo..." he says in a tone usually reserved for playful banter. "I just wanna tell you I love you, Jimmy-boy. Make sure you understand that."  
"House..." Wilson says coldly, closing off as always when he's redying to get hurt. "You are high on whatever's cursing through your veins. And quite possibly also brain-damaged. You were dead for a minute there."  
"The best minute of my life..." House closes his eyes making a blessed face. "Unless you wanna compete with that, of course. Make a memorable minute of your own. You have a pretty great chance of winning, you know? That's a thing all of your wives agree on." he waggles his eyebrows.

Wilson doesn't dignify that with an answer. He is honestly too tired for that. He had been worrying for this whole time that House was out and now he's too weary with all the stress to deal with yet another game, quite possibly much more cruel than the previous ones given the great chances of getting heartbroken in the process.

But then he feels a sharp pull at his wrist and finds himself looking into House's eyes. Eyes that are suddenly far more serious than anticipated. Wilson catches himself holding his breath. He lets it out with a huff.

"I mean it, Wilson." says House, sounding more like himself now despite the ridiculously unhouse-like words that leave his mouth. "I mean it."  
Wilson blinks and absently licks his lips. Then he looks down for a second before meeting House's eyes again. He searches them thoroughly and some pieces of the puzzle suddenly click into place. He makes sure his face stays neutral, even though he can feel the butterflies in his stomach come to life and flutter rapidly making him almost nauseous.  
"I know." he says matter-of-factly and this time it sounds just as soft as he means it to sound.

He barely registers House narrowing his eyes suspiciously before he pulls his arm out of his grip and stands up to leave. The indignant gasp he hears when House proceeds the response and finally connects the dots is like a music to his ears.  
"You... You!" House shouts after him, a hint of amusement definitely mixing with irritation and disbelief in his voice.  
Wilson smirks as the door closes after him. After all, nobody said that two can't play this game.


End file.
